


brute force

by Hope



Category: Firefly, Serenity (2005), Star Wars
Genre: Crack, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-01
Updated: 2005-07-01
Packaged: 2017-10-03 10:45:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hope/pseuds/Hope
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>at Mary's request.</p>
    </blockquote>





	brute force

**Author's Note:**

> at Mary's request.

he weren't sneaking around where he weren't meant to. weren't going against the captain's orders to leave the crates they picked up back on tatooine well alone. well, not on purpose, anyway. was it jayne's fault they'd been stowed right near his bench press? no. so jayne couldn't be held responsible when his grip slipped on the barbell and the solid weight slammed down on the crate's clasp. four times. and if the cargo was as precious and valuable as the captain _said_ it was, well then, jayne was just being a responsible crew member by checking to make sure there weren't no damage done by the unfortunate slippage of the weights, weren't he?

and he don't _think_ the cargo looks much to be damaged; not that it looks much to be anything, anyways. cool metal and black plastic fitting into the curve of his palm just fine, too small to be a weapon with not much swinging length to it; must be an engine part or some such, though it's a bit too highly polished and personable in his palm to be slotting into some bigger piece of greasy machinery, and since when do engine parts have buttons just the right shape and place for his thumb on them--

_whoa_. now _that's_ a bit more swinging length, like a bar of welding flame only bluer, and less harsh on the eyes, and humming happily somewhere at the back of jayne's teeth like the smooth vibration of serenity up through his heels when she's taking off with a full load of bounty. and moaning a little when he swings it, now, and shearing off the rough edge of vinyl that's been scratching the backs of his thighs on the bench press for a while now. and the welded steel that makes up the frame of it. and scoring the scratched, reinforced floor of the cargo bay just a little. whoops.

"strong with this one, the power is--"

he cusses automatically, then again as he nearly shears the toe off his boot with the shiny before he can fumble with the catch that shrinks it down to nothing again, and by that time river's made her way down the stairs to drag her fingertips along the newly-made smooth edge of the bench press.

"firestick," she says eventually, almost dismissively, tilting her head as if she's never been in a more boring situation in her life and the way her eyes fix on his distract him somewhat so that before he knows it she's making a grab for the shiny thing and there's a moment of fumbling scrabbling lunging before he has _it_ in one hand, high above both their heads, and her at the end of his other (fingernail-scored) arm, her forehead straining against his palm before the cords in her neck relax and she relents.

"teach you to use it, i can," nonchalant again, wandering idly to jayne's left, and then around behind him... only for an instant, before he turns again to face her, and keeps turning, still holding his new shiny up out of reach. "how to use the force."

jayne laughs a little. "i think i already know how to use force, sweetheart," spitting it out, then regretting it a little as her eyes go a bit savage again.

"no," exasperated and sharp, like she's speaking to a child. _hey_\-- "_the_ force."

 

and it's not as much of a shame as it could have been, cutting the end off the bench press, because this works just fine once he gets the hang of it, which he has, only a few hours later, until simon's voice breaks it when he walks in and, of course, instantly exclaims; "_river_?!"

jayne freezes mid-motion, wrist abruptly trembling in exertion, fingers curling a little where they were flattened on the floor; but the girl, to her credit, doesn't move, still providing a steady weight down the line of his body from the sole of his foot to his palm. all the blood rushes to jayne's head and he feels himself swaying a little.

"..._jayne_?"

jayne clenches his teeth, spits. "_what_?"

"are you... river... why is she balancing... what are you _doing_?"

"what does it look like?" jayne grits out. "_training_."

**Author's Note:**

> http://hopeful-fiction.livejournal.com/32195.html


End file.
